


even when it's rainy (all you ever do is shine)

by meliebee



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Background Happy Hogan/May Parker, Canon Compliant, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, I'm saying PETERMJ RIGHTS!!!, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New York loves their spiderboy and that's the tea on that!!!!, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Protective Michelle Jones, Social Media, Spideychelle, and he gets one babey!!!, irondad is mentioned a lot rip irondad, it isn't addressed but it's there, listen I have no idea how this turned into a social media fic but like. it's there, lots of people are mentioned or make short cameos but those are the biggies!, oh also Peter has PTSD, sorry about that y'all it hurt me too, we stay winning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliebee/pseuds/meliebee
Summary: “Just get here,” MJ says. She doesn’t like how lost Ned sounds. Compartmentalise. Keep Peter feeling safe. Lock the windows and the doors. She can do this. She can do this.(It's the aftermath of Mysterio's revelation, and Michelle Jones is doing her best to keep everything afloat.)





	even when it's rainy (all you ever do is shine)

**Author's Note:**

> i adore reading spideychelle fics and they're always SO good but i've never published any so i'm nervous!! i tried hard to keep it in character but it was struggle city so idk how it turned out lol. i'm in the middle of my final school exams and yet writing michelle jones' perspective was harder than a three hour history paper wheeeeee
> 
> i have no idea why there's social media in this fic. i don't even HAVE a twitter
> 
> OH ALSO i kept Cindy (sin city) and Sally (salad) and Abe (abraHAM) in this because i don't like change!!! it's that simple
> 
> anyways enjoy and uwu everyonell!! shoutout also to all the phenomenal spider-man authors on this site who inspired me like hot damn y'all really be distributing art for free huh

Ned picks up before the second ring. His voice is frantic, too high and panicked: “MJ? MJ, oh my God, did you see—is Peter, do you—”

MJ squeezes her eyes shut and cuts him off. “Yes, we saw, yes, he’s here, no, he’s not fine.” She pauses, chewing on her lip, and glances at Peter. He’s asleep, and it would be so easy to forget all his trauma just looking at his dumb messy curls and half-open mouth, curled up against her side. He’s close enough that she can see his freckles, which is—stupidly endearing.

“Oh my god,” Ned whispers, because he knows better than she does how good Peter’s hearing has become, “What are we—what are we gonna do? It’s crazy out there, man.”

“I know.” MJ moves her fingers through Peter’s hair unconsciously, then almost stops when she realises what she’s doing, but ultimately decides against it when she feels how Peter relaxes against her. He’s practically a liquid.

What a dork. Michelle really likes him.

“I was with him, when. You know. The video. So.”

“Where are you now? Are you safe?” Ned might be loud and high-strung but he’s smart and he’s been dealing with Peter-as-Spiderman for a lot longer than she has, and he’s always thought of other people before anything else. Kind of like Peter.

“Yeah, we’re at mine. I’m home alone for the weekend, so. We’re good.” Her mom and step-dad are out of town again, but Michelle doesn’t mind. The house gets quiet but the city is loud, and it gets lonely but Ned and Peter never shut up on the groupchat. It’s not so bad. It’s better than weekends with her dad and his girlfriend, where MJ always feels out of place. 

“Okay.” Ned takes a breath. “I’m gonna come over. Can I come over?”

MJ nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“Fuck, MJ. What… what are we gonna do?”

“Just get here,” MJ answers. She doesn’t like how lost Ned sounds. Compartmentalise. Keep Peter feeling safe. Bring Ned. Lock the windows and the doors. She can do this.

* * *

**michaeielah with a y **@kayyyyla

Spiderman visits my dad’s hotdog stand every Friday to say hi to our beagle are yall really gonna take him to jail

**michaeielah with a y **@kayyyyla

yall really gonna look that 12year old in the eyes and take him to jail. a Literal Baby

* * *

The decathlon chat is blowing up. Ned and MJ scroll through it, eyebrows traveling higher and higher as the texts just don’t stop coming.

“Dude,” says MJ, “I think Flash is like… broken.”

> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: WHAT THE FUKC_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: WHAT THE FUCK??????!!!!?!?_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: that’s not real right_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: ????_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: peter parker isn’t spiderman lol???_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: fucking as if_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: peter parker WISHES he were spiderman_

Abe sees that Ned’s online—rookie mistake— and the chat blows up even faster. Ned winces and MJ whistles, impressed. Peter, nestled between them on MJ’s bed, shuffles in place and MJ freezes but Ned just reaches over and pats his head. Peter settles, his face turned into the crook of MJ’s neck. She tries hard to remain undistracted.

“If we weren’t in the middle of like, a crisis, I would be saying something about this,” Ned warns her, looking very pointedly at Peter and his arm nestled around MJ’s waist.

MJ nods. “Fair.” She’s blushing a bit, but she’s proud to say that her voice remains level. Her free hand goes back into Peter’s curls and Ned sends her a very unimpressed look, like he can see straight through her I’m Above Feelings act. He can, actually. He and Peter both can. MJ, weirdly, doesn’t think she minds.

Her phone keeps vibrating. “Are you going to, like… answer them?”

Ned frowns. “Should we?” His expression smooths into something worried and tired and serious. It's his _guy in the chair_ face. MJ straightens a bit in response. “Because we have to think really carefully about this, MJ. The only people who know Peter’s Spiderman are, like, us and his Aunt. And I guess the Avengers, I don’t know. Are there even Avengers anymore?”

“Eh,” says MJ, because if there are any Avengers left they’ve done absolutely fuck all since the battle at the Compound, and Peter’s the only suited hero anyone has seen in months. Typical, really. Adults aren’t worth shit anymore. 

“So. Do we admit Peter is Spiderman and try to minimise the fallout? Do we deny it? Do we focus on the, uh, _execute them all _part of the video? What angle are we taking?”

“These are good questions,” MJ agrees. She nudges Peter. He doesn’t stir, so she nudges him harder, pushing a hand into his chest. “Hey, Peter, wake up. You’re in the middle of this crisis. Wake up.”

“MJ!” Ned whines as Peter blinks at her, rubbing his eyes in a stupidly endearing way.

They catch him up and MJ watches Peter pull himself together, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes, leaning against the bed’s headboard and staring alternatively at his fingers and at them while Ned and MJ tell him what the major news outlets have been saying, the complete fucking radio silence from literally any Avenger ever, the decathlon groupchat—

“Oh, nice,” says Peter, and picks up his phone. Ned doesn’t stop talking but MJ does, a bit worried that he’ll click on one of the Fox News articles that blame him for things he wasn’t even alive for. Instead, her phone buzzes. She picks it up.

_deca-bitches _

> _4.17pm_
> 
> ** _peter parkour_ ** _: o yea lol_
> 
> ** _abraHAM_ ** _: ?????_
> 
> ** _betty boop_ ** _: oh my god_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen:_ ** _hey what the FUCK_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: ????????????_
> 
> ** _salad: _ ** _are you gonna like,,, address this_
> 
> ** _peter parkour: _ ** _surprise _

MJ rolls her eyes to the sky. “That is not what damage control looks like,” she tells her boyfriend, who smiles back at her with not nearly enough guilt. 

> **_aye aye captain_ ** _: peter ffs_

The group responds to Peter’s appearance with unflinching uproar. Peter, at MJ’s elbowing, types out another message: _also like I didn’t bomb London btw_

Betty responds in a millisecond: _literally never even in question_

> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: what hwat the fcuk r u lying about ths or_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: ?? thhis isnt real _
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: literally no fucking way_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: i once saw u eat a burrito u dropped on the floor_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: u wear ugly science pun t-shirts like evry single day _
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: u cried when u broke ned’s pretend-baby egg_
> 
> ** _betty boop_ ** _: my point exactly_
> 
> ** _nedward_ ** _: peter u bitch u told me flash broke my egg!!!_
> 
> ** _sin city_ ** _: omg tea_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: i fucking hate my life_
> 
> ** _lightning mcqueen_ ** _: is this fucking real_
> 
> ** _peter parkour_ ** _: mood_

* * *

The first video goes up fifty-two minutes after Beck’s video. Abe made it, and ten minutes after sending it to the groupchat and posting it on youtube, it’s gathered thirteen hundred views. After that, the numbers just keep climbing.

He called it: _reasons peter parker isn’t spiderman: he’s in my class and he’s an idiot_

It’s footage mostly from snapchat stories, all filmed vertically. It’s only two minutes and twenty seven seconds, in which Peter laughs so hard that he snorts at Ned’s bad science puns, walks into class every day with increasingly lame T-Shirts and messy hair, spills chemicals on himself when MJ kisses his cheek, says “oh my god colours aren’t real” with two empty extra-extra large frappes on the desk in front of him at seven thirty AM, walks into a desk not once but twice, and performs his elaborate handshake with Ned for four clips in a row.

Peter replies on the chat with: _don’t b mean :((_

Abe posts the next video ten minutes later: _six minutes of peter parker being valid_

This time, Abe has borrowed footage from other students. The video zooms up to Peter’s starstruck expression as Betty gives a presentation on Bruce Banner. Peter making Ned a daisy flower-chain and slipping it onto his head while Ned squeals, and then doing the same for MJ, who doesn’t even look up from her book. Peter’s voice saying: “I think Thor transcends sexuality, actually? Is there anyone in the world who _wouldn’t _risk it all for those _biceps _alone?”

Blurry footage of Peter throwing a textbook at the TV when Captain America’s fitness gram pacer test announcement starts up. Six short clips of Peter walking into class, every time in noticeably oversized sweaters and usually carrying sugary drinks. (One sweater displays a faded MIT insignia, and when they watch it Peter tells MJ that “it was Tony’s”. One was Uncle Ben’s, and two are Ned’s, and one is MJ’s. Only one is his, and it’s the purple one that says _rey skywalker owns my ass.)_

Peter drops his pencil case on the ground and just stares at it silently before tipping his head up to the ceiling, Betty’s shaky filming zooming right up to his eyes. Peter with his head nestled on MJ’s shoulders, right next to her neck, using her height to his advantage so he can lazily doze midway through chemistry. Peter responding to something MJ said with his dumb giggle-laugh, his nose all scrunched up and his eyes radiating warmth, his shoulders raised. Peter completing a robot and beaming as it whirrs at him, turning his smile to Ned as the little robot clings to Peter’s fingers in a handshake. A final shot zooming up to Peter, alone in a classroom, dancing in place like a dork.

It's not great quality and hastily made and weirdly endearing. Right at the end of the video, the screen goes black. Big white comic sans appears: _dear daily bugle: fuck off_

* * *

**The New York Times **@TheNewYorkTimes

This afternoon, The Daily Bugle released a video claiming to reveal Spiderman’s identity as Peter Parker, a seventeen-year-old high school student. Responses have ranged from vicious to disbelieving. Read our article on the events [here].

**MSB **@MSB

Who Is Mysterio? And Why Do We Trust Him? Read More Here: msb.ms/347spd87i

**anthony stark is my dad **@gogogio

okay Peter Parker Scandal aside: mysterio rlly thought his dusty ass could EVER live up to tony stark???? i have to laugh

* * *

May calls Peter as soon as she gets off of work. She’d been assisting with some kind of surgery, isolated from the world, and MJ doesn’t envy her the sudden panic and confusion she’d been exposed to as soon as she left the hospital.

“Oh my god, baby, what the fuck?”

“I know,” Peter moans, and May swears in violent Italian on the other end. Peter nods solemnly along.

“How did this even happen? How did—” May takes a breath. “Are you safe right now? Are you at home?”

“I’m safe,” says Peter. “I’m at MJ’s.”

“Hi, Miss Parker,” says MJ, leaning closer to the phone, which is on speaker.

“Hi, MJ,” May replies. She still sounds harried, but she’s drawn herself together so quickly that MJ is impressed.

“_Hi, May!”_

“Hi, Ned,” May sighs out. “God-fucking-dammit. Shit. Fuck. Okay. You’re okay? All of you?”

“Yep, ignoring the fact that my life is over,” says Peter.

“Uh huh. Okay. I’m gonna—” she pauses. Peter looks at his fingers, and MJ knows somehow that what he’s thinking is _call Tony, _only that’s not an option. She reaches over and links their fingers together, and he sends her a grateful smile, his eyes still weighed down. He’s really too young for all of this. He’s too dumb and doe-eyed and smiley for any of this. MJ wants to fight Quentin Beck with her bare fists.

“I’m gonna get some stuff from the apartment, and then we’re gonna meet somewhere and work this out, okay? Not at MJ’s.”

“It’s cool, Miss Parker,” says MJ. “My parents aren’t here.”

“Someone might have seen you with Peter, though,” May points out, “and I don’t want you staying in the same place for too long. MJ, honey, did people see you and Peter together on your date?”

_Date, _mouths Ned, looking delighted, and MJ fights down a blush. “Um.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, “We left Times Square together, so.” He grimaces. “Sorry, MJ, I wasn’t thinking.”

MJ shakes her head and squeezes his fingers tighter. May speaks before MJ can, saying, “No, baby, you did good. Okay. We’re gonna—we're gonna get you out of the city first. Okay? Damage control can wait until you’re safe.”

Peter frowns miserably. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’m really, really sorry, May. I didn’t— I don’t...”

“I know,” May says, her voice softening a bit, losing some of its frantic energy. “Let’s just take this step by step, okay? Pack some clothes, MJ, a bag—Peter, I’ll get your stuff—I'll book some bus tickets—okay. Okay. Ned, honey, are you—”

Ned squares his jaw. “I’ll stay, May. I’ll be ground control, you know? Keep you updated, run things from here.” He glances up at Peter and MJ, and the fear is shining in his eyes, the desperate need to stay with them clearly warring with his willingness to do what’s best for them. Peter reaches out and grabs Ned’s arm, and Ned pats his hand, letting his palm cover Peter’s and stay there.

“Okay, kids.” May’s voice barely wavers. “I’m gonna call you in a few hours, okay? Do _not _go outside, not until I give you the location for the bus stop.”

“Okay,” they all chorus. Peter swallows hard, his hands held by both MJ and Ned, his face ashy. “Love you, May. Please, please be careful.”

“You too, baby. Stay safe. Larb you.” She hangs up first. Peter squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath. MJ leans her head on his shoulder, nosing at his neck gently. Ned swings an arm over Peter’s shoulder, pulling them both close.

“We can do this,” Ned murmurs, ever the optimist. Sometimes MJ thinks that both he and Peter are made up of pure sunshine, the most fearlessly positive people she’s ever met. She isn’t like them, though, she doesn’t have an endless spring of optimism within her. They keep her warm and she keeps them moving.

“Come on,” she whispers, “I’ve got hair dye in my bathroom.”

“Holy shit,” Ned replies, “are you about to get queer-eyed? Oh my god. Yes.”

MJ grins, pulling the boys up with her when she stands. “Let’s go, Miss Congeniality, it’s time for us to disappear.”

* * *

**The Sydney Herald **@TheSydneyHerald

In Case You Missed It, New York’s Spiderman Is Apparently A Teenager (And Possibly A Psychopath) [See the full article here.]

**mark as in shark **@looklikeimgoingforaswim

my youtube explore page really wants me to like this peter parker kid huh

**Jason M **@jacey

> replying to @ looklikeimgoingforaswim

omg same literally every second video is a conspiracy video or some high schooler posting yet another “peter parker has done nothing wrong ever” video its so funny

* * *

MJ really likes it when Peter plays with her hair. It’s maybe not the best time to discover this. He and Ned are both squinting in concentration, lathering her curls in the leftover dye, and MJ eyes her reflection dubiously. Get it together, MJ. 

“I have never in my life wanted to be a redhead,” she tells them.

“Dude, why,” says Ned. “You’re one step closer to Pepper Potts, and you’re one step closer to Ron Weasley. Wins all around.”

“MJ isn’t Ron,” says Peter, offended. “She’s Harry. Right?”

Ned surveys her critically. “Argument could probably be made for Hermione.”

Peter makes an unpersuaded noise, scrunching his nose, and MJ rolls her eyes. “The duality of woman. How long does this have to stay in?”

“Um,” says Ned, grabbing the box to check, “Let’s say thirty minutes.” Peter side-eyes him, noting the indecision, but MJ doesn’t care enough to question it. 

“Great. Your turn, Peter.”

Peter whines, but changes seats with her, pulling a face when MJ picks up the scissors. “_Please _don’t make me bald,” he begs. MJ winks just to make him squirm. It’s tempting to dye Peter’s hair, too, maybe a green or a blue, but she’s all out of dye and Peter seems infinitely more reluctant to cut his hair, so naturally that’s the better option.

She gets to work on the hair on the sides of his head, keeping it closer to the skull than it had been, but she leaves the curls on the top of his head alone, brushing them a bit forward to make his bangs more pronounced.

"Hey, it doesn’t look bad,” says Ned appraisingly, with an undeserved amount of surprise colouring his tone.

MJ sniffs. “Of course it doesn't.” She pats Peter’s head. “A perfect little frat boy. Go get 'em, tiger.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Yuck. Good job, MJ.”

* * *

**The Onion **@TheOnionNews

Local Mystery Man Bullies Teenager On Global TV And Gets Congratulated For It 

**BuzzFeed News **@BuzzFeedNews

Everything You Need to Know About Peter Parker: bfn.sm/17sji7zh89

**TMZ **@TMZ

You’ll Never Guess Peter Parker’s Connection to Tony Stark (Hint: It’s NOT Spiderman!)

* * *

Peter wears MJ’s stepdad’s leather jacket. It's too long, but it does his shoulders and biceps a lot of favours. MJ's stepdad is kind of a giraffe. MJ herself dons a sundress that nearly reaches her ankles, green with yellow and red flowers, and her newest pair of converse. It would be easier if it was cold, and people wouldn’t question sweaters and dark jackets, but it’s the middle of summer and New York is hotter than anyone likes it at the moment. MJ’s hair is red-tinted and straightened, and Peter’s pulled his curly bangs over his forehead.

Ned looks like a proud mom when they present their makeovers, if MJ ignores the increasingly stressed lines by his eyes. He even makes them pose for a photo to send to the group chat, where Peter crouches on the floor like a rapper and MJ does her best model impression, hands on her jutted hips and chin tilted up. Betty replies with three fire emojis. Flash responds with five crying faces. 

MJ’s got a backpack, to avoid the duffel bag aesthetic of looking like she’s just robbed a bank, and she went through the entire apartment to scrounge together as much cash as she could. She’s packed underwear and extra socks and pepper spray. She isn't sure what people are supposed to bring when they're adopting new identities. (She does pack a book to read, just in case.)

It’s just after nine at night. They ate reheated pizza for dinner, plus Ned's mom’s abodo which he’d packed in Tupperware before coming over. Peter sits in the middle of the couch, and he’s curled into Ned’s side and resting his head on his shoulder while holding MJ’s arm close to his chest and interlacing their fingers. Ned is on his laptop, MJ on her phone, both monitoring the newsfeeds while Peter watches reruns of old Doctor Who through half-lidded eyes.

They're just waiting, now. They're caught in limbo between adrenaline and action, trying to stave off the fear growing thicker on the walls. May texted them the address of a Seven-Eleven near a bus stop and told them to meet her there at half past midnight. Abe sent them fake IDs twenty minutes ago, which Ned tidied up with their new photos, and Cindy is going to come by on her motorbike to drive them to a halfway point at eleven thirty.

Peter hadn’t wanted to involve anyone else. And MJ gets it, she really does—he's lost a lot more than most people have, of course he’s hyperaware of the dangers of vigilantism—but it’s too late to uninvolve the decathlon team. Peter is an idiot, but he’s theirs. They’ve all made it through the Snap and through Europe, through a combination of luck and Peter, and they know better than most that superheroes aren’t always as infallible as they seem.

Flash has already livestreamed an angry rant denying Peter’s identity, then posted a huge array of links to passionate opinion pieces defending Spiderman’s right to privacy. “Spider-Man is one of us,” he’d said, Betty beside him nodding firmly along. “Anyone who believes he caused the illusions in Europe... no. I was there, okay, and Spidey was doing his best to save as many people as possible. He’s a hero. He always has been. Just ask anyone in New York.”

He also called Peter “just a normal fucking nerd”, and that seemed to make Peter more emotional than the rest of the video combined.

By now the sun has fully set, and MJ turns her phone off and lets herself succumb to the exhaustion dragging her eyelids down, inching close to Peter. She wraps an arm around his waist, resting her head on his chest, and he moves the arm that had been holding her hand to encircle her shoulders. Ned keeps tying away on his laptop, the light from his laptop dim and golden. He's humming something under his breath. It sounds like Kehlani. 

Three phones buzz in unison, their screens lighting up in bursts of dim blue. 

_deca-bitches _

> _9.27pm_
> 
> ** _abraHAM_ ** _has changed **aye aye captain’s **name to **mary-jane watson **_
> 
> ** _abraHAM_ ** _has changed **peter parker’s **name to **john doe**_
> 
> ** **
> 
> ** _neward: _ ** _peter looks like a soft boy now i said what i said_
> 
> ** _betty boop: _ ** _the way god intended _

Peter’s heart beats steadily under MJ’s chest. Ned’s fingers clack on the keyboard. Outside, cars keep driving and people keep laughing, as if the name Peter Parker means nothing to them at all. New York has always been resilient, just like Peter. They’ll get through this. MJ’s eyes drift shut.

* * *

**casey kay **@caseyfreak

even if Spiderman ISN’T peter parker, there’s no way he’s a day over twenty. all of nyc has heard his voice crack, it’s not exactly a secret. and I’m pretty sure defamation of a minor is a crime.

**fuckin noodle head **@mariiiiiah

> replying to @ caseyfreak

not to mention he’s literally helped out half of new york so like? what is the Point @TheDailyBugle

**i'd die for nancy wheeler **@jonathanbye-ers

> replying to @caseyfreak

lowkey I’m pretty sure half the things being done rn aren’t abiding to any sort of minor’s rights protocol. 

* * *

New York at night has always felt like a different city to New York in the day. Its edges blur, all the ugly parts pushed into the shadows out of sight. It’s busy and bright and painted in shades of blue and red and green, pink and yellow and harsh white. New York at night is an intimately familiar sight to Peter, MJ assumes— or the alleys and the muggings, not so much the neon and the streetlights and the glow.

Wherever they’re going, MJ hopes that they’ll be far enough away from the city that they can see the stars. 

She didn’t think they’d all fit on Cindy’s motorcycle, and she’s pretty much positive that it’s illegal, but Cindy is driving and Peter is behind her and MJ sits right at the end with her arms wrapped tight around his waist. The wind on their faces is dry and hot.

Cindy, who’s the most reckless driver that MJ has ever met, is weaving in and out of traffic and taking all the shortcuts she knows of. Her ripped-sleeve shirt has a giant spider on the back, which seems less than inconspicuous, but it's not a new addition. Peter turns his head, his skin flush against MJ’s. Even this late at night, New York in the summer is uncomfortably warm. “Almost like swinging,” he says to her, and MJ rolls her eyes, hiding her smile against the leather of his jacket.

“Adrenaline junkie,” she accuses. Peter laughs, his body shaking under MJ’s arms, his curls flying into her face. If MJ wanted to, she could pretend that everything was fine and nothing was wrong, that she’s got her arms wrapped around her boyfriend on a motorcycle driving through their city late at night. It’s summer and it’s warm and she loves him, and he’s a superhero whose identity has just been outed to the whole world.

MJ tightens her arms and squeezes Peter's ribs, keeping herself close. The drive isn’t that much farther, and then Cindy will drop them off at the halfway point. From there, they’ll hitch a ride on the back of a truck headed to May’s 7/11. It sounds risky but May promised that kids do it all the time—she ran away from home when she was a teenager, Peter has told MJ about it before. When they said goodbye to Ned, he hugged them hard and made them to text him the second they got on the bus heading out of the city. He tried not to cry too much, and he mostly succeeded, but Ned's always had such a great big aching heart.

MJ’s got coffee in her veins, keeping her awake after her powernap on the couch, and the wind is scratching her cheeks. Cindy told them, when she came to pick them up, that she’s a mutant too. It hadn’t been easy for her to say, and Peter had looked so visibly shocked that MJ isn’t sure how he ever kept his identity a secret. The field trip that changed Peter changed Cindy too, only in different ways.

“You’re doing good,” she said to Peter, firmly so he knew she meant it. “I wish I could do more to help, the way you do, and maybe one day I can—but we’re all behind you on this, Peter. We need to stick together. We’re with you.” And whether she meant mutants, or classmates, or their entire generation—it hadn’t really mattered.

MJ turns her head so it’s resting on Peter’s back, the city flying past her in a blur of colours and shapes.

She's aware that heroes don't exist because someone gets special powers or a special suit—it’s something in their hearts that drives them to help other people, like Peter, like Cindy and Abe and even Flash tonight. It’s not the Avengers, up there in their shining tower, and MJ’s never thought it was. It’s Peter, on the streets in a suit he made himself, watching out for his neighbourhood because he knows what it feels like to lose people. It's the neighbourhood watching out for him right back. 

* * *

**Cosmopolitan **@CosmopolitanNews

The digital age has transformed the ways news spreads and the way we think about superheroism. The Spiderman Scandal shows us why that’s a bad thing. [Click here to read the full article.]

**BuzzFeed London **@LondonBuzz

Confused about the Spiderman scandal? Here’s what really happened, from the accounts of those who were there: www.bnl/jjsa9lk75sjh.com

**kaya! **@kayaa157

mr parker if ur reading this i'm free thursday evening please respond

**kaya! **@kayaa157

> replying to @kayaa157

before anyone fucking comes for me i'm 16 okay it’s fine

* * *

After jumping off the back of the truck—which, no, was neither fun nor safe—Peter and MJ slink around the back of the Seven-Eleven, hoping desperately that the truck driver won’t notice them or won’t care. They can see May straight away, hovering by the wall, her hands wringing nervously. Peter hisses her name, and May whirls around, her eyes going wide once she spots them.

May flies straight at them, hurrying along the pavement in scuffed sandals, arms outstretched. Peter melts into her embrace while MJ makes a muffled noise of surprise, May squeezing tight and exhaling a long breath of relief. She pulls back, placing one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at them critically.

“Are you both okay?” They nod in synchronisation. May shoots a quick glance up to the sky, making a relieved noise. “Okay, _good_, good. First step done.”

She pulls her hands back and then falters, her lips quirking into a smile, head tilting: “Cute bangs, baby.” Peter wrinkles his nose, and MJ grins despite herself. “Did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah,” says MJ, slinging her backpack over her shoulder while Peter whines _oh my god that makes it sound so bad, May, no_, and May nods determinedly, pulling them closer to the bus stop right along the street.

“Okay. I got you both tickets. You’re headed out of the city to uh, Long Lake. There’s a cabin—Happy will send you directions—and it’s a safe house, he says. The bus should be coming in around ten minutes.” She pauses and surveys them. “Are you two alright? For real.”

Peter nods, but MJ can tell he’s just as overwhelmed as she is. May’s face melts, because of course she can tell, and she cups his cheek with one palm, her other hand lifting to brush his curls off his forehead. “Oh, honey,” she says. “God, we just can’t catch a break, huh?”

Peter laughs, sounding watery, and May presses her lips together tightly, then drops a kiss on his forehead and sighs wearily. “As soon as you get off the bus, call me, okay? Oh, and before I forget—here.” She pulls a flip phone out of her pocket and presents it proudly.

MJ can picture Ned retching, but they can’t take their phones with them—for the first time, MJ is kind of glad that her parents are so absent. They won’t notice that she’s missing for a few days at least, and if they drop by the apartment, they’ll just assume she’s out somewhere else or even visiting the other set of parents. May hands them a map, next, with annotations that describe where they get off and where they find the cabin. She's doodled smiley faces along the highlighted route.

MJ puts both objects into her backpack, feeling a bit like she's collecting items for a quest. Then she pauses, uncertain as to what the next step is, because it's real life and there aren't any how-to guides. May doesn’t share her hesitation and pulls them both close yet again, her hands braced against MJ’s back and Peter’s collar. MJ sees where Peter got his tactile affection from. “Oh, be safe,” May says fiercely. “Don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

“Okay, May,” says Peter into his aunt’s hair. MJ nods along. She’s pretty sure that being stupid is kind of their standard, but she’s not going to argue. And if she lets May linger in the hug for just a moment longer than is necessary, that’s not something she needs to dwell on.

* * *

**Chad Bryce **@chadbrxyce

let’s not forget that Peter Parker is responsible for the deaths of over a dozen people in Europe. he should be on trial for neglect and manslaughter at the very least. age is not an excuse for mass murder #JusticeForMysterio 

**i’d die for the wasp **@calli-o

> replying to @chadbrxyce

fuck off chad no one asked

* * *

By the time that Peter and MJ stumble off the bus, the world is bright blue and the morning sun is high in the sky. Peter didn’t sleep for the whole bus trip, but MJ managed to doze off in bursts. She’s a little worried about the tension in Peter’s shoulders and the way his jaw clenches every time anyone looks over at them. It’s not an inability to be incognito, it’s just straight-up paranoia. Beck really screwed with his head, but it’s okay, because he’s got MJ.

She helped him figure out what was real in Europe, and she can do it again now. Or that’s what she’s telling herself so that she doesn’t sink into a pit of helplessness, which never feels good and won't fix anything whatsoever.

MJ misses her phone. She misses the decathlon chat, even though it's usually annoying as all hell. Peter shoves the leather jacket into the backpack, because it’s already too warm to wear; MJ’s sweating in her sundress. “Ugh, suburbia,” she says, observing their surroundings with a critical eye. Peter sends her a smile, his lips curved to one side. He reaches for her hand and she gives it to him.

“Okay, so on the map it says the cabin is within walking distance, we just have to find the right path.” Peter squints at the houses around them, which are all brick-laid and single story. There aren't any signs about forest trails. 

“Ugh, hiking,” MJ mutters, more genuinely grouchy this time. Peter squeezes her hand in apology and she grimaces. She doesn’t want Peter to think she’s mad at him, because she’s not but she knows he’ll spiral—god, she could _strangle_ Beck. She could. She could tear him apart with her teeth and not even feel sorry about it. 

“Okay, Dora,” she says sagely, burying her distaste for sweaty hikes in the middle of summer. She throws her shoulders back and swings their linked hands. “Lead the way.”

It’s not so bad, once they get started. They had to ask a convenience store cashier for directions—her name was Ashley and she had dyed blue hair and she looked at MJ with a lot of interest until Peter stumbled clumsily into view. The woods are awash with golden light, filtering down through gaps in the tree tops, birds chattering above them and ferns brushing against their shins as they pass through.

It’s not a new path, or one that’s been very upkept, but it’s kind of nice, in a Hallmark calendar kind of way. Peter, with his messy hair from a sleepless night, leading the way with one hand intertwined with MJ’s, making their way through moss and pine trees painted a brighter green than almost anything in the city. The amount of flies is just gross. MJ's hair is so sweaty that it sticks to her face, and she's tied a knot in the front of her dress to keep it from swishing around her shins. They take water breaks and bend their heads over the map and argue about how much farther they think it is—it’s domestic, is what it is, and MJ almost hates how much she likes it.

She’s Michelle Jones, she’s bristly and prickly and she doesn’t have friends, let alone boyfriends, only here she is on a hike in a forest. She should be at home, in a lonely apartment by herself, writing on her laptop or babysitting the neighbour’s kid for some extra cash. She should be upset that her hair is red and she’s wearing a disguise and she’s technically on the run. She should be angry that Beck is destroying Peter’s life from beyond the grave and the whole world is picking him apart, tearing holes in him as if they’re allowed to, as if he isn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

She _should_, and she kind of is, but she forgets all about it every time Peter turns to smile at her, cracking stupid jokes or making dorky references to Luke and Leia in the Ewok woods. The sunlight makes his eyes shine golden brown, laugh lines crinkling by his cheeks.

Even though everything is so messed up and the Michelle from a year ago would never have chosen this for herself, MJ wouldn’t have it any other way. Peter trips over a root beside her and goes bright red when she snorts at him, not even bothering to defend his clumsiness as anything other than what it is. She kind of loves him.

* * *

**stressed and well-dressed **@mackaylaiguh

hm nobody hurt me for saying this but like… peter parker kinda a snacc

**e-girl before it was cool **@marha

> replying to @mackaylaiguh

EXACTLY WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING mr parker can like…. get it

* * *

Once they’ve found Happy’s safe house, unlocked it, and gotten settled in, MJ collapses on the shitty beige sofa and stares at the ceiling. Peter is sprawled on the sofa's other end, one hand curled around MJ’s ankle. They’ve left the windows open, because without natural light the cabin feels a lot less like a lame, rustic getaway and more like a secure safe house for spies and superheroes.

“Um,” says Peter, sounding distant: “I haven’t really. Processed any of this.”

“I know,” says MJ. “I can tell.”

“Aw, cute, you notice me,” says Peter, and she can hear the smile in his voice. He squeezes her ankle once, and she waits for him to continue. It only takes a minute. “It’s just that, you know, everyone keeps—talking about damage control. But what if it’s too _late?_ I mean, my name is out there now. No matter where I go, or what I do, even if we somehow convince people I’m not Spiderman...” he trails off.

MJ pushes herself up into a seated position to show that he has her attention, crossing her legs, and Peter mimics her. She wants to tell him that everything will be fine and he doesn’t have to worry, but neither of them would feel comforted by a lie.

Peter continues, “And I wanted to go to university, you know? But now it’s like—anywhere I go, Spiderman goes, and someone will connect the dots, and what about _you_, MJ, people have seen you with Peter Parker _and _with Spiderman—”

“Hey,” says MJ. “Chill out. We’re like seventeen, firstly, so I don’t think anyone is going to target me for dating a dorky white boy or being saved by a superhero. And secondly, I thought you didn’t want to leave New York for university?”

“I don’t,” says Peter, kind of miserably. “I mean, I can’t. I couldn’t. And I don't want to, really, it’s just—I wanted the choice. And Tony, Mr Stark, um, he always said this stuff about going to MIT. I don’t know, I just thought…”

MJ’s face twists in sympathy. She pokes one of his knees with her toes. “Your life isn’t over, Peter. This is just a thing, just like how Europe was a thing, and the Vulture was a thing. You'll get through it.”

Peter laughs. “MJ, both of those _things_ were total disasters.”

She kicks his knee with her foot. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah." He sighs, looking away from her. "I just. I liked having Peter Parker separate from Spiderman, you know? After… after, um, Titan and Tony and Thanos, it felt like… having a secret identity was the only thing that kept me together. It was the only thing that was normal. And now that’s gone, and it just—”

“It was a safety net,” says MJ. “I get it.” She does, too, because Peter has seen what happens to superheroes, seen the ugly gory _violent_ ways that their stories end. He digs his palms into his eyes, his back hunched. MJ reaches out and pulls his hands away from his face, encircling his wrists with her fingers and then interlacing their fingers. She scootches closer so their knees touch.

“Hey,” she says, with enough feeling that Peter looks her in the eyes. “I _promise, _if Beck is still alive, I’m going to castrate him.” That startles a laugh out of Peter, and MJ smiles in victory.

“Okay, you get first dibs,” he agrees, because he's understanding like that, and she darts forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. She can’t promise to fix this for him. She can’t promise it’ll be okay. But she can be there for him, and that needs to be enough.

* * *

**The Daily Bugle **@DailyBugleNYC

Revealing video uncovers Spiderman’s true identity! Has New York been trusting a villain this entire time? Watch the shocking footage here: spdermnfghjkasd.com

**this bitch empty **@spidermansaysgayrights

> replying to @DailyBugleNYC

no one fucking asked

**stop asking me about peter parker**@abraHAM

> replying to @DailyBugleNYC

is it crack?? is that what you smoke??? you smoke crack??

**nah they usually call me shalissa **@itsurgirlprincessshuri

> replying to @DailyBugleNYC

why the fuck u lyyying 

* * *

Hours pass. Peter fiddles with the flip phone and calls May and Happy, who talk over each in an almost pleasantly chaotic dynamic. May is staying with Happy in some other Stark Industries building, so she's safe too, which Peter is visibly relieved to learn. MJ finds some nuts and dried fruits in the cabin’s kitchen and discovers that the shower only runs cold. There’s no TV, but there is a StarkTablet that they can’t manage to turn on. There are quilts in a cabinet, and only one single bed. She stares at the bed for what is probably a suspiciously long amount of time before Peter calls her name and she whirls away too quickly, cheeks flushing.

In the early afternoon, MJ is sprawled across the bed and in the middle of reading the book she brought along (_The Testaments _by Margaret Atwood) while Peter fiddles with the flip phone, trying to make something new out of its skeleton.

The StarkTablet suddenly starts ringing and Peter jumps while MJ grows still, both of them slowly sitting up straight and meeting each other’s eyes. Without speaking, MJ makes her way over to Peter on the couch as he picks up the tablet and swipes on the call icon.

For a second, nothing happens. Then a burst of static and Pepper Potts’s face is filling the screen. MJ stares. Peter stares. Is this real? Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, with her face too close to the screen, mid-sentence to someone they can’t see. MJ has complicated feelings about Stark Industries— like, a lot, and so complicated— but all of that aside, Pepper Potts is, like, a known badass. A trailblazer, one might say. A _legend_, even. 

“Peter,” says MJ lowly. She doesn’t say _what in fresh hell are our lives, _but the sentiment is there.

Pepper turns to them, then, and tries to smile reassuringly. It doesn’t really work. “Hi, kids,” she says, which as far as first impressions go is possibly not the best considering that the kids in question are fugitives from the law. “Did you find the safe house okay?”

MJ elbows Peter into replying, and he nods too quickly. “Oh, um, yes. Was that—is this your house?”

“Oh, no,” says Pepper. “It was something we set up years ago. There’s a switch in the bedside table to lock it all down, and there should be a secure WiFi connection you can find in the bathroom cabinet. Also, don’t worry, your aunt and Happy are both safe and secure. It’s not _quite_ witness protection, but it’s _basically_ witness protection.” She pauses and tries for a smile again. Neither MJ nor Peter smile back.

“Anyways.” Pepper straightens up like she’s delivering a meeting, and MJ instinctively sits up straighter too. “Listen, Peter, I don’t need to tell you that this whole situation isn’t great. Whatever you really said on that bridge—Mysterio’s video took it out of context, I know—it’s out there, now. And your identity is too.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, for a lack of anything else to say. MJ sends him a glance, but he keeps his eyes glued to the tablet’s screen.

“And I would have preferred to keep your identity entirely out of this—whisked you off into witness protection straight away— but the YouTube videos and Instagram and Twitter and everything have made that a bit harder.”

“Oh. Right,” says Peter, but his jaw is tight. MJ can feel the same strain of indignation thrumming in her veins. The social media campaign using Peter’s name is in _defence_ of him, and it was started by a group of teenagers who care about him. Abe's videos aren't the only ones online, but they were the first. They did it to help him, and they did it straight away, which is more than anything anyone else has done.

“We can’t do anything about that now, anyways,” continues Pepper, like she hasn’t noticed the tension shared by Peter and MJ. “I’m thinking our best bet is with a press release. We admit you’re Spiderman—”

“Woah,” says MJ. “Uh, no.” Pepper’s attention shifts to her and MJ fights down the instinctive urge to shrink back under the other woman’s gaze. Instead she shakes her head. “No, no—you’ll be taking his entire life away from him if you do that.”

“MJ,” says Peter softly, his hand making an aborted movement towards her leg.

“I’m serious, _no_,” says MJ. “Find another way.” She hesitates. “Unless you’re okay with it, Peter?”

Peter pauses. His eyes flicker from MJ to Pepper and then back to MJ. “No,” he says after a moment. “If there’s any other way…”

Pepper on the screen tightens her lips. “I know this is hard. And I wish there was any other way, kids, I really do. Tony would be horrified to see your identity being outed like this, but…”

A muscle in Peter’s jaw jumps, and Michelle subtly laces their fingers. “What about Mysterio? Can’t we use his identity? As Quentin Beck, I mean.”

Michelle nods. “Didn’t Stark Industries fire him for something? If he’s dead, there’s no harm in dragging his name through the dirt. And if he isn’t dead, it’s better to out him as a total fucking psycho than to let people think he’s some kind of… martyr or whatever.”

Pepper tilts her head to one side. “Beck? That’s who Mysterio was?”

“Um, yes,” says Peter, confused. He assumed Pepper would have known. Nobody told her—or she just didn’t ask. Europe isn't exactly ancient history yet. “Quentin Beck? He was using Tony’s B.A.R.F technology. Or, I mean, I guess some of it was his.”

“Okay,” says Pepper, her voice strengthened with new resolve. “Beck… we can use that. Drag up some old records… _yes_.”

“Also,” says MJ, more confident now, “get on his level. Make something up. Say he was jealous of Peter or whatever. He’s crazy, we know that, but he needs a motive for including Peter’s name.”

Pepper nods slowly along. “We could publicise a photo of Tony and Peter, milk the mentee angle, talk about how Peter was one of our brightest interns. If that’s okay, Peter?”

“Yeah, yes, that’s good.” Peter laughs nervously, though he looks a bit vulnerable hearing Pepper Potts dissect his relationship with her dead husband. Anyone would be. Michelle tightens her grip on his fingers. “A lot better than admitting I’m Spiderman, for sure.”

“Okay.” Pepper smiles genuinely this time. “You’re bright kids, both of you. I’m sorry this has happened, really. We’ll do the press release, say Peter’s in witness protection at the moment because of the sudden internet exposure, expose Beck’s identity and his history with Stark Industries. If we’re lucky, Peter, your name will pretty much disappear within a few weeks at most, enough so that it’ll look like nothing more than a conspiracy theory. I… have a good feeling about this. I think it’ll work. This’ll work out. You're doing good, you've done well, and we can take it from here. I've got this, kid.”

MJ smiles, too, and squeezes Peter’s hand tighter in her own. _We’re okay, _she thinks, and believes it.

* * *

**BuzzFeed **@BuzzFeed

New York Rallies Around Their Spider-Child in The Face of European Outrage. Read more here: nycarticleaboutspiderman.com

**Teen Vogue **@TeenVogue

20 Ways the Spiderman Scandal Violates Human and Minor’s Rights, and Why Not to Blindly Trust the Media

**uwu captain marvel **@tonystarkrip

so are we all in agreement that peter parker isn’t spiderman after all lol

**uwu captain marvel **@tonystarkrip

that’s a BABY

* * *

Pepper told them to stay put in the cabin for the next two days, while she organises and then delivers the press conference. It’s just to be safe, and even though it’s so far away from everyone and it’s kind of scary to be so isolated, MJ doesn’t mind all that much.

She and Peter are sitting outside, on the cabin’s little wooden porch. MJ’s wrapped her arm over Peter's waist, resting her face on his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. His fingers are curled on her shoulder, moving absently and tracing patterns on her skin through her oversized pyjama shirt. The night is warm and dry, and there are fireflies in the edges of her peripheral vision, flitting between the trees that ring the cabin.

The moon has formed a crescent, and it’s shining pale silver light down onto Peter’s face, illuminating the freckles on his nose and the colour of his eyes.

MJ shifts, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look Peter in the eyes. “Hey,” she says.

“Hi,” he echoes, tilting his head in silent question.

MJ pauses. Peter’s brow furrows. “You know I’m not mad about any of this, right?”

“Oh,” says Peter, surprised. MJ narrows her eyes. “Uh, no? No.”

“Good,” says MJ. “Because I’m not mad. I like you. I’m not even mad that we’re hiding out in a weird cabin by Long Lake, and it's hot and I'm sticky and gross but the shower doesn't work right.”

Peter’s eyes go all soft and gooey, like he’s looking at something precious. “Because you’re hiding out in a weird cabin with me?”

“Ew, gross,” says MJ, shoving at his face. A moment of silence, and then: “Yeah, duh.”

“Aw, MJ.” Peter props himself up and leans forward into her space, smiling at her. “I like you too. So much. I wouldn’t want to be a fugitive with anyone else.”

“Stop it,” says MJ, “you big sap. Yuck.” But she’s blushing so hard that she can feel it on her ears, and her stomach is fluttering in a way she didn’t even know it could. It feels like her heart is trying to squeeze through her ribs, suddenly too big for her skeleton, and her bones are going to splinter out everywhere in an explosion big enough to encompass how much MJ feels for the idiot beside her. “I, um. You too. Obviously. Duh.” 

“I’m glad you’re with me,” says Peter. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

MJ lets the words seep into her skin, make a home in her heart, tattoo themselves on her lips. He says the words as if he’s said them a thousand times, and they fall from his mouth will the familiarity of anything else he’s ever said, without any of his awkwardness or self-doubt. He says it like it’s easy, and maybe it is. It’s Peter loving MJ and her loving him. It's the easiest thing in the world. “Love you too. Even if, you know, your bangs make you look like a frat boy.”

Above them is the galaxy, glittering in the inky blackness of space. Peter laughs and keeps laughing as he leans in to kiss MJ on the cheek, which she counters by turning her face and meeting his lips with her own. The stars gleam like beacons in the vastness of the universe, far above anything below them, far away from the city and its lights, untouched and untouchable. When Peter wraps his arm around MJ and brings her close to his chest, she traps him right back. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) please please review friends :)
> 
> 2) if y'all are interested in more spider fics (specifically genderbent idk why but I have like 8 stories in my WIP folder) let me knoooow
> 
> 3) i am also aware that it's "spider-man" not "spiderman" but,, yolo


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